#smallwood

All around Joel was chaos, something he would normally thrive off of.

Not this time, though.

Not when those he loved were being ripped away from him. The first Red had already perished, and– fuck! No time to think, just move! 

The Wither flew around by their heads, tormating them as it flew in the open air.

Holes were blown into the ground with exploding wither skulls.

Players screamed out in a poor attempt to coordinate.

Swords sliced through the air as they failed to damage much of anything.

Arrows swooshed by their heads in an attempt to hit the damn thing.

Players were dodging and weaving and avoiding potholes for their lives.

Joel’s chest tightened with grief. Not everyone was going to make it out of this disaster alive.

He had already lost Lizzie to the void, and he knew that was his own fault. He had been the one to send her after Scott. He should have known better than to risk her life like that, even for his task–

Granted, it was her own foolish idea to use the blummin’ End Dimension. It wasn’t totally his fault. She should have known better.

At least, well… that’s what he told himself in an attempt to self-soothe. Joel wished it was more comforting than it proved to be.

His heart beat furiously in his ears, blood and adrenaline rushing to his limbs so swiftly it made him dizzy. Still, he had to keep moving, keep running! Joel knew better than to stop, for once he stopped, he wasn’t sure he would be able to get back up.

Thunder cracked as lightning struck the ground where a Player once stood, a Player who just lost their final life.

Breath caught in Joel’s throat as he glanced at the communicator built into his wristband, looking for a death message. Which Red had met their demise now?

“Jimmy!” His voice cracked with grief. “Jimmy, no–!”

He had only lasted, what, ten minutes longer than Lizzie? Joel wasn’t sure, but it still felt that new, that fresh… 

A broken wail escaped the confines of his throat.

Oh, for goodness sake, Jimmy! 

How has he died again? Why did he die again, die so soon?

Jimmy had only just broken the canary curse, and for what? To only last a few minutes longer? To be the first to die in The Overworld?

Had he even broken it? Joel couldn’t help but wonder, biting down hard on his tongue. His death is still symbolic of a canary in a coalmine. Shortly after his death, everything goes to shit– 

Everything was already going to shit.

Everything was currently going to shit.

Lightning cracked down from the sky behind him, and Joel spun around mid run to see which Red had left them now.

He didn’t have to wonder for long, for Grian cried out for Mumbo in anguish.

“Mumbo!” Joel echoed a moment after as he blinked tears from his eyes. Not one of his Mounders! First Lizzie, then Jimmy, now Mumbo–  

Anger simmered in his gut as he turned to Grian, the man who was once one of his Bad Boys. Joel tugged Grian sharply toward him by his collar, trembling with a tsunami of emotions. “Grian, you’re killing– Grian, is this your doing?”

Grian didn’t fight him back, knowing he probably deserved it. His eyes were wide and a bit wild, though grief also stricken his features. 

“This is not the plan!” Grian promised frantically before promptly pulling himself from Joel’s grasp and stumbling backward. He turned as he stumbled, leaving Joel in favor of Joel’s soulbound from Double Life. “Etho, this is not the plan!”

What sort of maniacal plan had those two fuckers come up with this time? 

His attention was too scattered to dwell on it any longer.

Joel combed his fingers through his green-streaked brown hair as he assessed the damage to the landscape around him, his other hand gripped tightly on his water bucket. A sword or bow would do nothing for him if he fell into a pothole or got blasted up into the blummin’ sky. He could try to save at least some of his non-regenerating hearts by bucket clutching, not that he was consistent with that.

He winced at the remembrance of his legs breaking on impact, but he forced the memory from his mind. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“Why are all the Reds dying?” Joel muttered to himself, tucking the water bucket back into his inventory and pulling open the list of Players to check their life counts. Who was left–?

His blood ran cold.

Martyn. 

Joel frantically looked around, trying to spot his lover amongst the crowd. His efforts brought up nothing, leaving Joel to plead, “Someone tell Martyn to hide!”

I can’t– no! His thoughts spun in his brain, distraught, panic-stricken, and hard to catch. I can’t lose Martyn too! Someone needs to hide Martyn– protect Martyn– I need to find Martyn! 

The universe had different plans as Scott chased behind Joel, the blummin’ Wither on his ass.

“Joel!” Scott called for him, sounding out of breath and a little annoyed. 

Joel couldn’t blame him, especially as he’s sent most of the session plotting his demise. It was his task to assassinate Scott in any way he could, after all, but Scott was also too blummin’ good at these things that it pissed Joel off sometimes. Fine, most of the time, but like, Scott had already won; he didn’t need to outrank Joel again! Joel felt justified in his one-sided rivalry, thank you very much. 

Scott didn’t understand or perhaps he simply didn’t care that Joel really didn’t want to deal with this right now, for he continued, “Are you thinking about helping me at any point?”

“No, Scott!” Joel snapped back honestly, fighting the Wither being the last thing on his mind. He needed to find Martyn. “Just stop following me, lad, please!” 

Joel hoped Scott would read his intentions– as near-impossible as him being able to interpret something so complex through body language accurately was– and leave him alone. He was trying to protect Martyn, someone Joel knew Scott cared about too. They had teamed together in Limited Life, even if Martyn had stabbed him in the back to win.

Unfortunately though, he and Scott weren’t on that sort of wave length. “Well, it would be nice to have some help.” 

Just go, Scott! Joel was starting to resent Scott even more staying on his heels. Hadn’t he learned by now that they weren’t allies? Friends, maybe, but during these Games, Joel was rooting for his death. Joel was known for being overly competitive, after all, and Scott was too large of a competitor to not loathe even if just a little bit. “I can’t do much to help!”

Scott seemed to finally take the blaring red flags that Joel was not going to aid him, which freed Joel up to search for the Red he was looking for.

He eventually spotted Martyn’s shade of blonde in the distance, sighing in relief as he noticed he was playing it smart and staying by the sidelines. Still though, Joel darted over to him, barely giving his lover any time to process as he took his head and started running. 

Martyn stumbled after him, but didn’t let go, picking up his pace so he could run in stride with Joel. “Where are we goin’?”

“Away from here,” Joel answered, eyes darting around as he looked for a good place to lay low. “Anywhere away from The Wither and Warden. I refuse to let another Red die, not today.” Martyn’s mouth opened to say something, but he promptly shut it, before opening it again. He didn’t seem to find the words until their run turned more into a jog as they slowed, approaching the entrance to BigB’s blummin’ cobblestone backroom tunnel maze thingy.

Joel ushered Martyn inside, not giving him a choice but to go first, before following in right after. He shut the door behind them, took Martyn’s hand once more and dragged him down until they couldn’t hear the chaos that reigned above them any longer.

“This is oddly sweet of you,” Martyn commented, albeit suspicious. “You aren’t planning to kill me yourself, are you?”

“Not so loud!” Joel hissed through his clenched teeth, shoving Martyn against the wall and putting his hand over his mouth.

The both stayed silent, listening for any possible signs of the threats looming closer. Several long moments passed before Joel was pulled from his hypervigilance with a wetness coating of his palm. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he fumbled away from the wall and off of Martyn, wiping his licked hand against his trouser leg. “Gross, Martyn! Did you really lick me–?”

Before Joel could finish scolding him, Martyn twirled him around, using the fact Joel was already off balance to pin him against the wall instead. Joel gawked at him with wide eyes, the hand licking already forgotten as red eyes peered into his yellow ones. 

He could feel Martyn’s breath on his face, each exhale heating Joel’s cheeks. His gaze dropped to Martyn’s parted lips, the fearful anxiety from before morphing into anxious anticipation. “Blummin’ hell, I– I know I look good, but don’t just stare there gawking at my majesty. If you’re gonna kiss me, do it already, coward.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Martyn teased, leaning closer to brush his lips against Joel’s for only a moment. Instead of committing to it like Joel desperately wanted him to, he diverted the action, peppering kisses up his jawline until he reached his ear. Once there, Martyn nipped the cartilage before breathing out, “Do you think you can stay quiet if I kiss you till you run out of air?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Joel challenged, voice wavering at the thought, not that he’d admit that even if Martyn pointed it out. Not that Martyn needed to, not with that stupidly self-satisfied smirk Joel wanted to kiss off his face. Fuck, he’s hot, and he’s so close, and if he doesn’t kiss me in two seconds, I’ll– 

Joel decided to take matters into his own hands, not wanting to let Martyn keep the high ground just to fuck with him. He had already lost so many, and he wanted– nay, he needed assurance that Martyn wasn’t leaving him just yet. He needed proof that Martyn was actually here with him, needing to know that blood was still pumping through Martyn’s veins instead of being used as a fine wine by Them. 

His hands wandered Martyn’s body, slipping under his shirt to grab onto the love handles just above his hips. He used his grip to tug Martyn toward him until Martyn’s hips were flush with Joel’s. Martyn lost his cool suave as Joel took control, the deep pink that flushed his cheeks worth every antagonizing moment they’ve spent apart. 

Martyn’s pupils were dilated, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dimly lit ambience of the caves, or from admiration, or both. He wondered idly if he had a similar expression, though he didn’t dwell on the idea as he discovered he truly didn’t care as their lips collided in a hungry kiss.  

Their give and take was anything but serene, bloodthirsty and passionate as they practically consumed one another. It was evident that Martyn needed to be as close to Joel as Joel needed to be with him. 

Martyn’s tongue slipped through Joel’s parted lips, entering the cavern of his mouth. He traced the outline of Joel’s canines as his hands canvassed Joel’s body, taking his time to explore every part of his lover with agonisingly caring consideration. Joel moaned softly as he arched his back, skin sensitive to Martyn’s contrasting gentle fingers. 

Their chests heaved as their lungs contracted violently as they finally came up for air, seeking the oxygen their suffocating appreciation of one another neglected them. Joel cupped Martyn’s cheek and Martyn raised his hand to join his. He leaned into Joel’s hold, eyelashes fluttering close as Joel brushed his thumb against the very lips he nipped raw, the skin there now a furious red.

He couldn’t help but feel proud of the sign Joel had been there, the passive possessiveness stroking Joel’s inner desires. His temptations and desires and recklessness didn’t usually get to him this intensely as a Yellow, but he had already lost so much… he couldn't lose Martyn too. He couldn’t! He wouldn’t. Not if he had anything to say about it.

At least, not today.

Joel wasn’t sure his heart could handle anything else.

Martyn turned his head to press his bitten raw lips against Joel’s palm– something Joel was sure he mirrored based solely on how they felt– as Martyn’s red irises glinted with hazardous bloodlust. If Joel was smart, he should have taken it as a threat, but he couldn’t. The way Martyn looked at him was utterly addicting. “You know, it isn’t wise to be this close to a Red. Most would say it’s downright dangerous, especially given how long I've been Red this time around.”

“Well,” Joel clicked his tongue, flashing a smirk full of performative confidence in Martyn’s direction, “I’ve always been known to chase danger.”

Which is probably why half of those I care about are all dead right now.  

He averted his gaze, his expression saddening uncontrollably. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to focus on the man before him. He didn’t want to be sad, to feel that distress, though he knew it was foolish to try.

Joel tightened his grip on Martyn, desperate and longing. Martyn softened from their flirtatious banter, gathering Joel in his arms much more tranquil than the ever consuming hunger from before. He pressed a kiss against Joel’s fled ruffled brown hair as Joel melted into Martyn’s chest, yellow eyes going glassy.

They stayed like that for several moments, left in silence besides their breathings and Joel’s pathetic whimpering echoing off the tunnel walls. He sniffed in sharply, glancing at his wristband communicator before shifting just enough to peer up and meet Martyn’s red gaze. “We should go back up. The Wither is almost dead, and people will be wondering where we are.” “Okay,” Martyn agreed, but he didn’t let go of Joel just yet, and Joel found himself grateful for it. He rested his forehead against Martyn’s shoulder and Martyn rubbed circles on his back. 

Joel’s heart ached, and he hated himself for it– he wasn’t the one who was Red! He wasn’t the one who needed comfort, needed saving… Joel had come here to protect Martyn, to get him to hide, to make sure he lasted another session. 

And well, he supposed he had done just that. He had completed his own personal task, not that the Secret Keeper would give him anything for his efforts.

Joel couldn’t stay like this with Martyn forever, and they both knew it. What they had was stolen time, each moment sacred and fragile, but Joel didn’t mind this bit of thievery. Martyn was worth any possible punishment he would have to endure for their crimes, not that he thought anyone would know.

“I’ll go up first,” Joel broke the silence, voice so quiet yet so loud this deep underground. “I’ll see if I can make anything useful with the end of The Wither’s health. You can come up a bit after me and watch from the outskirts for the end of the fight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Martyn agreed, matching Joel’s low tone. They stared into each other’s souls for several heartbeats before Joel tore himself away.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Joel headed toward the exit, refusing to look back at his lover. If he did, he wasn’t sure he could find it in him to leave. He placed his hand on the door, though he hesitated when it came time to open it. Joel turned back toward Martyn only to find him watching as he made his leave. “Stay safe.”

“No promises,” Martyn chirped back with bravo and false pleasantries, punctuating his comment with a two-fingered salute.